The Curious Incident of the Toon in the NightTime
by Insane Logic
Summary: Everything was perfectly normal in the Warner Brothers Studio. Then, suddenly, for no apparent reason, there are unidentified toons popping up everywhere. A human is killed. And the Warners are assigned, because the only way to catch a toon is to be one.
1. Prologue: The Rule

A/N: This is my first Animaniacs fic. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for reviews. I know how short the prologue is, but everything that comes after will be much, _much _longer. Anyway, here's the prologue. Enjoy.

**Prologue: The Rule**

**T**here is a rule in cartoon-making. The rule, simply, is that as soon as a human creates a toon they have to bombard them with as much paperwork as possible. This is applied to all toons, even the infamous Warner Brothers (infamous in the sense that they're infamous in the studio, the public loves them.)

After all, if a toon is created in the human world, and is left undocumented, things tended to get rather messy. Being undocumented, they would run free and bend rules and cause quite a bit of havoc because they 'didn't exist'. The company who made them would have a gigantic mess on their hands. Contracts and all the general legal 'stuff' had to be sorted through when someone finally decided to create a toon.

That was a big step, to bring something into the world. Especially the villians. Things had to be taken into consideration.

Whatever the case of the particular toon was, they had to shift through mountains of paperwork before anything could be done about them.

That is the rule.

Then again, rules were made to be broken.


	2. Chapter One: Sally and Ted, Warner Studi

A/N: There really isn't much about the Warners in this chapter, but they're going to get increasingly more important as the story progresses.

**Chapter One: Sally and Ted, Warner Studio Animators Extraidonairre**

**S**ally Jones sat under a tree, her back propped up against it. She was on her coffee break on her job as an animator at Warner Brother Studio. Unfortunately, she didn't have any coffee to prove this so it looked like she was skipping some work.

"Running out of ink, Sally?"

Sally was particularly irked because she wasn't running out of ink and this person was going to try and take up her meager break time, "No, Ted."

"Oh. I found a bottle lying around the studio." he replied, as if she had given him a firm 'yes'.

"Generally," she started, eyeing him cynically, "Most people call that 'theft'."

"Finders keepers." replied her fellow animator, nonchalantly, handing it down to her.

"Where did you get it?" she asked. It looked like a very old bottle of ink. It was practically ancient.

"Aha! I knew you'd ask! I... don't know. I found it on my desk." he lied, twiddling his fingers.

"I don't know why you bother. It's just a bottle of ink. I'll bet there are tons like it around." she replied, disbelieving his lie. Inside, she was itching to hold it. She liked old things like that (not older men, though, mind you). "It's a ordinary thing, Ted. They would've probably given it to you if you asked. I _really _don't know why you bother." Actually, she was slightly inclined to think Ted had kleptomaniac tendencies. She'd be right.

The other animator shrugged.

"It still has a nametag on the front." she pointed out, taking the bottle anyway. She began picking at the grimy, tattered nametag that consisted of scotch tape and permanent marker with her nail.

"Easily taken care of. See? Ink. Perfect for your dip pen." replied Ted, obviously pleased. He pulled down his red cap even more then it was, so it shaded his eyes to a point where they were invisible.

The nametag soon fluttered to the ground and stuck there. She dipped her long, slender pen into the ink bottle and tested it out. The ink was nothing special, she soon realized, as she drew a maniacal-looking ferret on the page. He wore a tall, old top hat that broadened as it went up to the top, along with a cloak. His feet were clad with two boots. A crazy light danced in his whirly, spinning eyes. She began to colour.

Ted peered over her shoulder, "I think it's creepy."

"Your problem, Ted, is that no one gives a damn what you think." she replied.

"That's not very nice." he replied with a light, flippant smile.

"Really. Wow, Ted, you should join a radio talkshow with snappy wit like yours immediately." she replied. She didn't mean to come off as rude, but she was trying to _enjoy _her coffee break. She didn't mind talking to him during work. That was acceptable. But anything beyond that was pure torture. She finished the last bit of ink in the ferret, then went to drawing another character. A tall, anthromorphic weasel with a fedora and old, tattered coat. His oversized boots had waterlogged, untied shoelaces dangling limply from over the sides. Out of the pocket of his threadbare coat was a magnifying glass.

"Can you make the fact he'd a detective any more obvious?"

"No." she replied, as she coloured his fur grey, "Unless I drew a bottle of whiskey in his hand, a Sherlock Holme's hat, a fingerprint dusting kit, a badge, a -"

"Forget it." replied Ted, obviously agitated. "You're so hard to keep a conversation with."

"Thanks." she replied, continung the steady montone she's been using the old conversation. "I try."

Giving her a disgusted sigh, he was at a loss as what to do.

She finally drew a smiling rat, with a bright expression on his face. His scruffy fur stuck out and he wore a bowler cap on his head. A large coat that went down to his ankles was on him. He was short and scrawny compared to the other characters and was scratching his head. Whether this meant he was thinking or he had fleas, Ted could not guess. The rat's whiskers were crooked and he wore a pair of slacks. "There." announced Sally, once she'd finished drawing and colouring the three.

"What are they, anyway?"

Sally's eyes were strangely distant. "I want my own cartoon show one day."

"With _them_?" asked Ted, incredulously.

"All of 'em." she replied with a smile. "I -"

Ted desperately didn't want to hear her dreams and ambitions. He quickly checked his watch, "Coffee break's over." he blurted out, even though this was a blatant lie.

"Already?" she inquired, puzzled. "Alright, then." she sighed. She put down the paper and pocketed the bottle of ink (only after the stopper had been shoved in, of course). A gust of wind suddenly picked up the paper and blew it high in the sky, overtop the Warner's Studio buildings. Sally was only slightly put out by this. She had extra pictures of the three.

The nametag lay stuck in the dirt. It read 'Lon Borax'.

01010101010101

Yakko Warner paused and stared at the wall of the watertower they lived in, "That's funny..." he whispered.

"What is?" asked Dot, curious and feeling left out of the loop.

Wakko, who was watching a Don Knotts video, thought that it must be his hero in question who was funny.

"It's nothing." replied the tallest of the siblings.

"Nothing?" replied Wakko, "That's Don Knotts!" he cried, obviously offended by that statement.

The tallest of the siblings decided to settle for that, because he was feeling an odd sensation in him. A feeling of contentment, bafflement and slight forbidding. He didn't want to worry them if they weren't sensing it... yet.


	3. Chapter Two: Of Doctors, Ferrets and Don

**Chapter Two: Of Doctors, Ferrets and Don Knotts Marathons**

**A **single piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Then there was a popping noise.

101010101010101

Yakko was bored. Watching the Don Knotts Marathon with Wakko was growing tiresome and Dot was watching a Mel Gibson movie on her own little gigantic three-foot screen, while gazing adoringly. Knowing it would be difficult to pull either away from what they were doing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "I'm goin' for a walk."

Neither particularly cared.

Swinging open the door and hopping out of the tower, he smiled to himself, "Time to make a new special friend!" he proclaimed.

101010101010101

The ferret scratched behind a floppy ear and folded his arms behind his back. Walking along with his arms folded behind his back, he hummed a tune and skipped. His eyes, lit up and wild, roamed the Warner Studio. The toon was quite surprised to have popped out of a piece of paper seconds ago, but already have a lengthy history in the back of his mind.

The fact of the matter was, toons all had histories before they created. Even those who had been thought up, but never created, had histories. They lay invisible in the air, waiting. Waiting for a chance. The ferret's had come. His history had been lengthy and filled with alot of unnescarry details (or so he thought). He found he knew his name and knew his family, even if none of it had never really existed.

This mildly disturbed him.

Then he felt a twinge in his stomach. He wasn't sure didn't what it meant, but it was being caused by a strange black-and-white creature with a long tail and a pair of long slacks. That was funny. He burst into contagious little giggles, literally splitting a grin from ear-to-ear. He didn't know why, but he found the slightest little things funny. Why just yesterday...

But there had been no yesterday. In fact, there hadn't been anything until the past five minutes. The past five minutes summed up his life.

He watched the Warner carefully, unsure. There was something odd about the toon he couldn't place.

The Warner looked at him a few seconds and they locked gazes.

The clownfaced child creeped him out. So, whistling an eerie little whistle, he proceeded to check out the new studio. He went over the facts in his head. He was an unknown toon in a little world that had no clue he even existed. The rules were inborn in every toon, but he didn't intend to follow them. Smiling, he continued on.

101010101010101

Yakko spotted the ferret and a little shiver ran down his spine. Normally, he would've ran up to the ferret and greeted him with a big 'how doooo you do?', but he felt some odd connection with the toon and he didn't like it. Dismissing it on the feelings he'd been having earlier, his eyes soon found the pefect victim; Dr. Scratchnsniff, the studio shrink.

"Heya, Scratchy!" cried the eldest of the Warners, with a grin stretching across his mug.

"Oh nien..." sighed Dr. Scratchnsniff, shuffling some papers in his hands and quickening his pace.

"Whatcha got there, huh, huh, huh?" inquired the Warner, hopping over to the doctor, excited. It had been a weird day so far and it was good to see a person who he knew would never change.

"Well, Vakko, I'm just bringing these to Mr. Plotz." said their p-sychiatrist, quickening his pace, "So, if you just let me go..."

"Aw, c'mon Scratchy, stay here. We can play a game!" he said, with a broad smile verging on a smirk.

"No, Yakko."

"Alright! I'll come too!" said Yakko with his characteristic smile, strolling alongside Dr. Scratchnsniff.

"No! Nonono!" cried the doctor, not wanting to picture the damage that unleashing the Warner into Mr. Plotz's office would do. Not to mention the damage that would be done to the doctor's payroll. "Um... Vait here."

"Oh, noooo! C'mon, Scraaaatchy, I wanna come tooooo!" he said loudly.

"Nonono! N-O, NO!" a frown creased across the doctor's face,"Vhere are your sibleengs, Vakko?" he asked, warily, waiting for the other two to pop out.

"Oh, they're just redecorating your office." said Yakko with a nonchalant smile. He was about to add to this when, suddenly, he saw two more toons pass by. A grey weasel and a scruffy-looking rat. A strange twinge was in his stomach. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He saw toons everyday, what was going on? "Scratchy..." came Yakko's voice, low, "Have you ever met someone you think you know, but know you don't?"

The doctor paused, "Vhat do you mean, Vakko?" he replied. It was unusual for the eldest Warner sibling to look so serious.

"Eeeeh... It's nothing." Then he walked away.

Scratchnsniff stood there for a few seconds, then, not taking this for granted, headed for Plotz's office (stopping just to make sure his own hadn't been redecorated along the way).

101010101010101

Yakko went back to his watertower quickly, taking an elevator up that hadn't been there that morning. Strange things tended to appear in and around the Warner's little home, without them taking much notice of them. They were used to them.

The eldest Warner frowned, deciding to investigate the matter of the strange feelings those toons were creating. First, he'd see if his siblings wanted to help.

_DING!_

He'd arrived at the door. He promptly opened it and entered, heading immediately to his younger sister who was staring dreamily at Mel Gibson onscreen.

"Oh, _Dot_!" he sang.

His sister, frowning, looked up at him, "What do you want, Yakko?"

Pleased his sister was so happy to see him, he leaned over the back of her chair, "Want to help me find out why there are strange-looking toons parading through the studio who have no right to give me twinges in my stomach but are?"

Dot stared at him a few seconds. The credits were already rolling. She sighed, "I guess..."

Yakko smiled and went over to his brother, who was still laughing hysterically and eating popcorn. "Oh, Wakko!" he called.

The middle Warner looked up, "Uh?"

"Want to solve a mystery?" he asked.

Wakko's eyes tore from Yakko's face and back to the screen, "Nuh uh."

"I'll give you candy..." he sang.

Candy was relatively small on Wakko's mind compared to a Don Knotts marathon.

"And you can always tape the Marathon."

Wakko's eyes flicked from Yakko to the Marathon rapidly. With an exasperated sigh, Wakko agreed. He inserted a tape and pressed record.

The Warner Siblings left the tower, Wakko's eyes on the screen until he was completely out of the doorway.

They were puppy-like clown-faced toons on a mission.

1010101010101

A/N: I really need to know if this is drastically OC, because it's my first time actually writing an Animaniacs fic. Constructive criticism is appreciated. There's a... surprising amount of reviews so far and I really appreciate that. The fic is going to get better later on. Hopefully.


	4. Chapter Three: Mayhem, Relatives and Sid

(A/N: Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! I really didn't expect that many! Or, really, any. You've all given me rather useful advice and I'm going to try to improve the story as it goes along, really.

To answer The Illustrious Crackpot's question, Lon Borax is from the 'Warner's 65th Anniversary Special' where it shows how Yakko, Wakko and Dot were created and their original black-and-white films. It shows that Lon Borax was desperately looking for something to spice up his 'Buddy' cartoons and created the Warner Siblings... And then went mad.

And I make a brief reference of Sakko here, who is, in fact, the Warner's cousin who appeared in one of their comic books. He's a grey version of them with a mustache who tells bad jokes and likes confetti.

I swear more is going to happen in the next chapter.

Plus, I know it may seem like Yakko, Wakko and Dot figured out a few things really easily, but the story's really just begun.)

**Chapter Three: Mayhem, Relatives and Sidekicks, Oh My!**

**S**ally Jones entered her home, which was coincidentally also the home of her parents and sister. The ability to live with your parents up to the age she had was a condition called 'pathetic' by many people. When she entered, her fifteen year-old sister (well into a gothic phase) gave her a disdainful sniff. Then again, her sister had a tendency to do that to anyone who was 'wasting their life being employed'.

Sally quickly headed to the basement, where she resided, to avoid her father's cooking.

Arriving in her bedroom, she took out her ink bottle and placed it on the desk. She sat down in the chair in front of the desk and dipped her pen in the ink. She decided to relax by... doing what she'd been doing all day. She had drawn a single, straight line on the paper when the phone rang. She got up, to go and answer the call.

_POP!_

A single, black line slithered off the paper and seemed to seep through the wall, finally heading outdoors.

Sally returned. She sat down in front of the paper. She frowned. Something was missing...

1010101010101010

"Wakko, Dot..." said Yakko, slowly and quietly, his tone serious. He turned to them, "Do you have this weird feeling in your stomach?"

Wakko gave a lop-sided frown and looked down at his belly, "I thought it was indigestion." he said in his liverpool accent.

"Like... something's out of place?"

His younger siblings nodded slowly.

"Well... I think it has something to do with some new toons..."

The two looked doubtful.

"Eeeh... Well, I'll show you." said Yakko, gesturing for his siblings to follow. He looked here-and-there, searching for the toons responsible for the twinges in his stomach. He walked along, his siblings following in a line. "Hey, Scratchy!"

"Yes, Vakko?" inquired the doctor.

"Have you seen any weasely-like characters about neigh-so high?" inquired the eldest sibling, putting his hand up to the height of a toon a head taller then him.

"Yes, Vakko. They vent that way." said the doctor, pointing to the left.

"Thanks, Scratchy!" cried Yakko.

"Bye, Dr. Scratchnsniff!" yelled Wakko, blowing a kiss.

The three dashed along when Yakko suddenly spotted the grey weasel. He skidded to a stop, his two siblings bumping into him from behind. "There he is!" cried the eldest and they raced towards him.

The grey-furred weasel watched them uneasily as he continued to walk along.

Each Warner examined him intensely, making faces.

"You're right, Yakko, he does make my stomach feel funny!" cried Wakko, poking his stomach.

Yakko smiled and nodded, "Seeee?" he said.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Dot to the weasel.

"I'm trying to find out why I'm here." said the weasel, bitterly, looking over the grey buildings.

"That is the question we all ask in life." said Yakko, solemnly.

"No, really. I just popped out of a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere being here." said the weasel, pulling his fedora down more.

Yakko frowned slightly. He couldn't argue with the strangeness in that. That _was_ strange. "Well, where were you before?" he asked.

"Nowhere." replied the weasel.

"Silly man, you had to be somewhere before." said Dot as cutely as she could.

"Maybe... Maybe around there." murmured the weasel, vaguely, gesturing in the air around them.

The Warners waved single fingers next to their heads in circular motions to one another behind his back to show each other they all thought he was crazy.

Yakko frowned slightly. There was something distinctly similiar about this toon. Similiar to _them_, that was. Which was odd, considering the fact this toon seemed to have little to no sense of humour. He smiled a rather fake smile at the weasel, "Would you say someone could turn around and you'd still be there? That there is nothing that could stop you from going in one direction, say, you could be thrown out of a plane... And still be in the same one? Would you say that, mister, hmmm?"

The grey weasel frowned disdainfully, "If I truly wanted to, I suppose I could." sighed the toon, his tone showing that he was waiting for them to get out of his life. He paused, giving them an odd look, "Have you seen a toon-ish rat so high?" asked the weasel, gesturing up to his stomach.

"Yes. He was with you." replied the eldest Warner sibling with a bright smile.

"Not anymore." lamented the weasel, bitterly. He continued to walk along, "Who are you, anyway?"

"We're the Warner Brothers!" cried the two eldest siblings.

"And the Warner Sister." added Dot, brightly.

"They love us so much they named the Studio after us." added Wakko in a sidelong murmur with a bright grin.

"And you are?" inquired Yakko, looking at the weasel for a response.

"Hughes Turner. Apparently." said the weasel with a frown.

"How quaint. Two last names." said Dot, with a fake laugh.

Yakko frowned, "May I see your foot, kind sir?" he said with a pleasant smile.

Hughes frowned, "Why?" he asked, warily.

"To confirm something."

The weasel raised a foot. 'Lon Borax' was imprinted on it.

The three stared at him a moment.

"You're made of Lonny's ink!" cried Wakko, pointing at it.

"This solves your problem. Your creator is Lon Borax. Lon Borax, you are the creator!" announced Yakko to the sky.

"No, my creator was... female... I think..."

"Wait," interrupted Dot, "So... This toon, with the two last names and everything, shares the same _blood _as us?"

Her brothers contemplated this a few seconds. Yakko really didn't like it.

"I mean, he's so drastically unfunny!" cried Dot. "The horror!" she wailed.

"He has the same limitations as us... Not many toons have that. We're unique." mumbled Yakko to himself. He eyed the weasel with mild dislike, but Yakko wasn't petty enough to complain about it. That fact just took some getting used too.

"Hello, blood brother." said Wakko, pleasantly. He didn't mind as much as his siblings. He was all up for new relatives. "Can I call you Uncle Hughey?"

"No." replied the weasel. He sighed and looked around the studio, "I don't know how I'll protect this place from crime."

"Why would you be doing that?" asked Yakko.

"Obviously there's no one else qualified." sighed Hughes, gesturing at Ralph, as he sat down and let people in and out.

Yakko smiled at that, "Well, he's got one thing right, sibs!"

"Besides, Mayhem may be lurking around any corner..."

"Mayhem? Listen, Hughesy baby, we are the very embodiment of mayhem!"

Hughes let his gaze look up and down them, "No. I don't think so." he said and everything said after this point was declared in a slightly triumphant manner that comes when you've come to a realization. "Because Mayhem's a ferret with a cape. And you, quite plainly, are strange little child-like things that he's sent to drive me insane and somehow, are, in someway related to me. Somehow." he'd finished declaring that bit and was now walking once more.

The Warners once more made a sign behind his back that he was crazy and set off after him again.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Dot.

"Looking for my sidekick." replied the weasel.

"Why?" asked Wakko, with his floppy tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he looked inquiringly to Hughes.

"Because he's an idiot who's bound to cause trouble. And I need his help to find Mayhem." replied the weasel.

"Oh." replied Wakko, not bothering to take a step further to _really_ annoy the weasel. After all, they were _related _(though everyone else involved in this would certaintly disagree, his siblings on the grounds that Babs and Buster said 'no relation' even though they were created by the same person and Hughes on the grounds he didn't like them). Having only three relatives for the past years had certaintly broadened his mind to the prospect, even though this toon looked absolutely nothing like them. Plus, Sakko, their cousin who'd been in a single comic book with them, hadn't visited in a long, _long _time.

It wasn't that Wakko didn't love hanging out with Yakko and Dot. It was that after spending all of the 1930s forward with someone (or someones), no matter how much you like them, you could get a sort of... deja vu feeling to everything. It's nice to have a larger family then that. Especially if you never die. True, 'Uncle Hughey' seemed to have no humour and... no personality, but maybe he could _force _him to have a sense of humour... Even if he was a slightly paranoid, detective with an 'apparently' idiotic partner who... "Is your partner related to us to?" asked the middle Warner child, with a large grin stretched across his face.

His siblings were mildly horrified. They hadn't foreseen that. They hadn't foreseen that _more _then one new toon was carrying the exact same ink from the exact same bottle in them.

Trying to remedy the situation a bit in his mind, the oldest sibling looked over to Wakko, "Well, then Buddy would have to be related to us." stated the eldest, plainly, in a tone that suggested the words following this would be 'and he's _not_'.

"Well, he's not from the same bottle, is he?" asked Wakko, "_He_ is." he said, pointing at the weasel.

"And how do we know that for _sure_, Wakko?" said the eldest with a shrug, "We'll never know. Which is why we should _assume_..."

"But he has the same limitations as us!" blurted out Wakko, "And every toon knows that depends on the ink, right?" he asked, quickly and slightly eagerly, "And Lon Borax never used anymore ink after he created us! He refused! He can't be making more toons, 'cuz he's locked up in a place where they don't let him use pointy objects, so someone must be using the exact same bottle of ink!" blurted out the middle Warner, quickly, suddenly finding himself quite out-of-breath. An uncharacteristic burst of realization had entered Wakko's mind, and his siblings took a few moments to stand in shocked silence.

"So... He doesn't have the same creator..."

"But he has the same blood!"

The three siblings contemplated this for a few moments.

"Eeeeeh... I dunno..." said Yakko, with an unsure look on his face and an added shrug for good measure.

And that was the end of the conversation.

They continued their search, soon gave up with their short attention spans and began to check around the Studio for someone in a hidden room drawing toons. After all, even Wakko reasoned that hundreds of relatives could get pretty annoying.

1010101010101010

An unknown toon, not within the boundaries of a studio or having made it clear to someone he was visiting from Toontown, slithered among the streets. It was common to see toons in Burbank, though they were usually alot more detailed then a single line.

1010101010101010

When Sally fell asleep that night, her single sheet of paper lying on her desk, there were a few, quiet popping noises that didn't disturb her sleep. They would, however, soon disturb a few other people's sleep.


	5. Chapter Four: The Murder of S Wright

A/ N: Thanks for all the great reviews! Really, the story couldn't be written without the reviewers.

Illustrious Crackpot: The issue is called 'The Fourth Warner', which pretty much makes it obvious what it's about.

And to all reviewers, I am -incredibly- sorry about the lack of updates. And this chapter may seem a bit rushed. I feel I went wrong somewhere on this chapter, so tell me any improvements that can be made.

**Chapter Four: The Murder of S. Wright**

The Warners woke up. They hadn't found the animator the day before, but they were sure they'd find him or her eventually. Meaning, they were desperately turning the place upside-down. As soon as they'd woke up, they'd begun to gulp down their breakfasts.

Wakko was going to look for 'Uncle Hughey' and his siblings were letting him do so. It was more important to them to find the animator then to look for a weasel detective who may-or-may not have been _vaguely _related to them, but if Wakko wanted to do that, they wouldn't concern themselves about it.

Shoveling food down their throats, they vaguely listened to the television.

_"And in other news today a man called S. Wright was believed to have been killed by a toon."_

This caught the Warners' attention.

_"An anvil was dropped on his head and police are still investigating if this has anything to do with the other toon disturbances that night. That story, after the commercial."_

Dot frowned uneasily, "You don't think...?"

"That this has anything to do with all those new toons? Why, yes, sister sibling, I do." replied the oldest, with a frown. He folded his arms and pondered this a few moments. This could be a big problem. A _really _big problem.

"Who do you think could be makin' them, Yakko?" asked Wakko, watching the glowing television screen as he finished his breakfast and swallowed the plate.

"Anybody in Burbank!" replied Yakko, with a wave of his gloved hand. Frowning, he paced about.

Dot rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but someone in the studio had to _get _the ink for them!"

Yakko gave a frustrated sigh, "Yeah, Dot, but Warner Brothers Studio is full of tons of toons, actors, producers, animators and directors daily!" He paused, "I got it!"

Dot rolled her eyes, "Do tell."

"Who's always complaining about their meager wages?"

"Tons of people." replied Dot. "Your point?"

Yakko shrugged, "Who said I had a point?" At his siblings' irritated glances, he replied, "Eeeh... I thought there would be a narrower range of people." with a shrug and a sheepish look.

"Well, genius big brother," replied Dot sweetly, "Shouldn't we look at the _animators _first?"

"Just what I was going to suggest, sister sibling." replied Yakko, his eyes now following the story about the toon disturbances. His black-and-white eyes flickered to Wakko briefly, "Wakko, you coming?"

Wakko pulled down his cap to fit more snugly around his head, "Nah, I'm going to find Uncle Hughey."

Yakko and Dot shot a look at one another that Wakko couldn't read into, said 'bonsoir' and 'au revoir' respectively and hopped out of the tower onto a trampoline that had appeared overnight.

The middle sibling grabbed his gag bag and left. Uncle Hughey was supposed to be a detective, wasn't he? Maybe he could help. Wakko jumped out of the tower and onto the trampoline. And maybe after all this was over, he could finish watching that marathon.

Absently, he wondered why anyone would want to make all those toons anyway.

1010101010101010

Sally Jones woke up. Daylight had begun to spread across the sky and she hurried to catch up with it. She grabbed her comb and roughly brushed her hair, hurrying along to get ready in time for work. She knocked over the bottle of ink sitting on her desk and it soaked into some paper. Hurriedly, she straightened the bottle upright and decided to mop up the ink when she got home.

As soon as she was ready, she rushed upstairs, only to be greeted with a grunt by her younger sister and nods by her parents. She grabbed her keys and headed outside, now at a fair run.

Her parents and sister went about their own business.

And in the basement, something stirred.

1010101010101010

"Uncle Hughey!" exclaimed Wakko, with a huge grin on his face. Walking beside the irritated, pacing weasel, he beamed upwards at him, "Didja miss me?"

The weasel considered this, "I met you yesterday."

Wakko gave him a slightly sad look, "We're relatives!"

"Maybe in your little world." replied the weasel, irritatibly. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Did you see a rat?"

"I'll help you look for him!" declared the middle Warner sibling, enthusiasticly.

"No thanks." replied the grey weasel.

"But I'm really sure I can find him!" replied Wakko, eagerly.

Hughes paced along a few moments, with Wakko imitating him behind his back. "Hm." he murmured.

The middle Warner sibling gave a similiar "Hm."

"Well, fine." replied the weasel, "But don't get in my way."

The liverpool-accented Warner saluted, "Alright, Uncle Hughey!"

The weasel face twitched with those very words. He hated nicknames.

"So, are you two a comedy duo?" inquired Wakko, brightly.

The weasel gave the clown-faced child a thoughtful look, "Me and Dribbs?"

Wakko was pretty sure 'Dribbs' was the name of the rat. He nodded enthusiasticly.

"If a comedy duo is a little thing where I stand there and he runs around in circles making jokes about me and all my efforts and talks to the thin air as if we're being taped, yes, we're a comedy duo." replied the weasel, slightly disgruntled.

"He sounds fun." proclaimed Wakko.

"Oh, wait 'til you meet him, you'll just have a right barrel of laughs with him." muttered the weasel, venemously. "While I try to stop the evil lurking in the shadows, you two can throw pies at each other and trade jibes about me and my job! Ha. Ha. How fun it will be." murmured Hughes through gritted teeth.

Wakko detected a little sarcasm there. He shot the weasel a strange look. If his siblings were there he would've made signs that indicated how crazy the weasel was behind his back. Instead, he coughed nervously and inquired, "Did you hear the news?"

"The dead human. Yeah. I know. It happens everyday in this world of vicious cycles."

Trying to feign interest so his 'Uncle' would like him more, he inquired, "Really?"

"Well, no, not really. Everyone always has to question what I say and ruin the dramaticness of it. I'm sure Sherlock Holmes didn't have to go through this." snapped the weasel.

Wakko remained silent. That is, until he spoke. "There he is!" proclaimed the clown-faced child, pointing a finger of his gloved hand at the rat.

"Oh, great. We found him."

Wakko smiled, "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, yes, in a _way_." replied the weasel. "Dribbs? What're you doing?"

"I'm looking for the cameras. We're supposed to have a show, you know." decided the rat.

"No, we were created by accident, c'mere."

The rat considered this, "Are you sure? I have a feeling we were meant to be a show. Isn't that what Jones wants?"

"What are you talking about, Dribbs?" sighed an irritated Hughes, "Get over here."

Wakko was ecstatic. Now he had Uncle Dribbsy and Uncle Hughey. Though, he had to admit, he had a bad feeling about how this was going to turn out. One or two or even ten relatives were all well and good. But how far could a bottle of ink be stretched? Very far, considering the fact Lon Borax had opened a new bottle of ink just for him and his siblings because they had special abilities. He was pretty sure it was, in fact, a toon related to them that did the killing. The thought chilled him to the core.

He wondered how his siblings were doing.

1010101010101010

The spilled ink had turned into a monstrous, black... thing that slowly oozed down the street. The ink was coal-black and looked very much like sludge as the blob headed into an alley. And with no personality created for it, it happily snatched one that was just waiting... waiting in the air for something like him. And soon, the blob of ink had a whole history of its own.

The people around that apartment noticed there sure were some uninventive toons being created these days and went back to their daily business.

1010101010101010

The animators were horrifed. One of their worst nightmares had come true.

Clown-faced puppy children were coming into their place of work - and who knew how much havoc they'd wreak, messing up their piles of artwork and ruining their many hours of labour?

As the two entered, the animators held their breath.

"We're heeeeeeere!"


End file.
